


Washing Machine

by janto321 (FaceofMer), loveanddeathandartandtaxes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Washing Machines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321, https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveanddeathandartandtaxes/pseuds/loveanddeathandartandtaxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He took the opportunity to suck a love bite where his collar would hide it. </p>
<p>Mycroft took a proprietary hold of his arse, and Greg raised his head. "By the way, your washing machine is on the fritz. Pretty sure it’s beyond repair."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washing Machine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tallenough](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tallenough).



“I bloody hate the government.”

Mycroft paused, jacket half-removed. Greg grinned at him from Mycroft’s bed, and he relaxed and continued to undress. 

“That is a terribly ill-informed opinion, not to mention hurtful.” 

“Nope.” He crossed his arms behind his head, making a show of watching. “It kept you away for nine straight days. And nights, which, I have to be honest, were the worst parts.” Greg had let himself in and was waiting for him when he arrived home, as he had been doing most evenings that Mycroft was free. 

“I could go have words with _the government_ about this right now, if you wish,” Mycroft said as he sat on the edge of the mattress to remove his socks. 

“Don’t you dare.” He could see little point even aiming for grace, so he bounced and jostled the bed intentionally as he moved to kneel behind his lover, rucking up Mycroft’s vest to skim a hand over his soft belly. “I really fuckin’ missed you.”

Mycroft pushed his hand away and turned to kiss him. "I missed you as well."

Grabbing his hips, Greg urged him onto his back, baring his stomach once more and flicking his tongue across his belly button. 

“None of that,” Mycroft chided, and pulled him up, nipping his throat gently with his teeth.

Greg growled and pinned Mycroft to the bed. "You're a perfectly handsome bastard, you know this."

Mycroft shook his head, denying the turn of conversation. "Isn't there something more _pressing_ to discuss?" He lifted his leg to rub against the erection straining Greg's trousers. 

Greg choked out a laugh and nodded, grinding back against his lover’s thigh. "Indeed. Something has arisen."

Mycroft groaned. "Really, Gregory?" Greg’s grin was wholly unrepentant.

“Not going to apologise. Hold still, let me-” he undid button and zip, tugging Mycroft’s trousers and pants off, then stripping off his own clothes. He admired Mycroft’s body until the other man self-consciously tried to grab a pillow to cover himself. 

"None of that." Greg claimed the pillow and gently smacked him with it. Tossing it over the edge of the bed, he pinned Mycroft's hands and slotted his erection next to his lover’s, grinding slowly as Mycroft's head rolled back with pleasure. He took the opportunity to suck a love bite where his collar would hide it. 

Mycroft took a proprietary hold of his arse, and Greg raised his head. "By the way, your washing machine is on the fritz. Pretty sure it’s beyond repair."

A beat passed as Mycroft blinked. "And how,” he eventually asked, “is that relevant to our current position?"

"Figured you'd want to know," Greg smiled at him. 

"Did you get me naked just so I couldn’t run away when you start to talk about the household appliances?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow when Greg paled. “Was that a concern?”

"Not the only reason, but, well..." Greg nuzzled his lover’s neck. 

"Mmm. Resourceful. Which is rather attractive" 

"Well, the way I see it, I’ve been using your washer more than mine, given that I’m ‘round here probably five nights a week anyway and there’s two drawers here with my clothes in, I figured I could bring it here, give it to you, and also can I stop pussyfooting around and move in with you?" 

The last words were rushed out breathlessly, and he winced as Mycroft stared up at him. Greg wilted and pulled away, scrubbing his hands over his evening scruff. "I mean, it was just an idea."

Mycroft sat up and captured both his wrists before kissing him. "Yes."

Greg watched his face. "Really?"

"Well as you pointed out, it is a logical solution."

**Author's Note:**

> We were chatting and phrases like "important conversations mid-sex" and "washing machines" and "help i am writing this" were bandied around.


End file.
